Death Always Comes With Roses
by Iamalmosthuman
Summary: Written by me and impudentmiscengenation; For Jack Frost and Danny Phantom, being (somewhat) dead has stirred a lot of misadventures. But this, they both had to admit, was way off the grid of what they loosely considered 'normal'. Especially when something dark is lurking, and they'll do whatever they can to get what they want.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One;**

It wasn't very often that Danny Fenton _wanted_ a ghost to attack. In fact, it was next to never that he _waited_ for his ghost sense to go off.

Today, however, was different.

Currently, Danny was slumped over a pile of books in the public library, praying that something, _anything_ , exciting would happen. If that meant taking a few hits from a ghost, then so be it.

His history teacher, Ms. Bohr (aptly pronounced 'bore'), had assigned a huge project on personal history to be done over their brief Thanksgiving vacation. In other words, the students had to make a family tree along with a report on what you found that was interesting about your ancestry.

Summed up, it was the dullest thing that Danny could ever consider attempting to do over his vacation. Danny was trying to get most it done on the first couple days of said vacation, while Sam and Tucker were out of town visiting relatives for the holiday. Once he got this stupid project out of the way, he'd have more time to actually relax.

Why was he sitting in the library, though? Surely there were better ways to go about this, right?

Well, his parents were no help. Once he got his father talking about their family history, there was no way you would get him to stop. Which would've been a good thing except that his Dad never stayed on topic. He needed a report, not a family recipe on how to use blood-blossoms to murder ghosts. So yeah, no thank you.

His mother, while less rambly and distracted, often strayed from personal history to the history of paranormal researchers that she admired. That didn't help him, either.

Jazz was spending her vacation, at least until the day of Thanksgiving, touring the various universities that she'd been offered full scholarships to. With her tiny car packed full, she was glad to get away from the craziness of Amity Park, if only for a few days. Danny, of course, had promised to call if he needed her. Somehow, he didn't think 'help me with a history project' exactly qualified as needing her enough to warrant a phone call, even though he was tempted to do just that.

The teen was toying with the idea of turning to Clockwork for help; watching his ancestors through the Time-Viewers. He quickly dashed that plan. Firstly because he had to cite his sources and that would just end up being a disaster. Secondly, the Master of Time was always excessively busy, and Danny typically went to the Clock Tower because he enjoyed his ghostly guardian's company (when the old jerk _wasn't_ beating on him with a staff because of his teenage stupidity, that is).

The biggest reason that he couldn't turn to Clockwork for help, however, was the crazy small things you do that can completely alter history. If you even kill a mosquito the past, then suddenly there's no cure for polio and the entire world is completely different.

…Yes, that happened. Was he proud of it? No, but it's not exactly like he thought slapping a bug would cause such discord. Clockwork was able to fix it anyway because, as always, he'd seen it coming. But because of the whole debacle (and perhaps a few others not _as_ severe but still just as troubling for Clockwork), Danny was no longer able to use the Time-Viewers as a resource. So, it was good old-fashioned books for him. And he _hated_ it.

Sighing, Danny shut the fifth book he'd opened. So far, he was able to trace his lineage from 1400s England to 1600s Salem and was now working his way through his family's migration along the Eastern seaboard. At least his father's side, anyway.

So long as he delved deep into one side of his family today, he could have the rest of vacation to work on his maternal family tree. He flipped through the pages of a journal from the late-1700s and/or early-1800s. Supposedly, his great-great-great-great-great- uncle had written it, but he needed proof in the form of a name. So far all it mentioned were locations, dates, and little adventures.

The man writing the journal as of yet only had a first name, Edward. From the entries, Danny concluded that he was a traveler of sorts. It seemed he sold wares on the road and bought things to trade elsewhere, where it would be more valuable.

It would have been cool if Danny hadn't been _forced_ to look him up. Even cooler if Danny knew for a fact that they were related. Propping his head onto his hand, the teenager started reading a new page.

 _In Burgess's town, Pennsylvania for the cold season. A quiet place, however, very rarely is it dull. A good handful of children make much noise after daily lessons; they are all rather healthy considering the bitter snows that seems common in these parts._

 _Townsfolk are simple and kindred souls on the whole. The Overlands are my closest neighbors; they introduced themselves and offered their aid if I am ever to need it. They have a strapping young lad with good working hands; this is a good thing. I may offer him an apprenticeship when my time in Burgess's town draws to an end. He seems the type that would enjoy traveling._

 _My bones ache with the promise of age and, without a child of my own, I need to find someone to carry on my business after I pass on. I'll keep my eye on that boy._

Danny blew his bangs out of his face. Briefly he wondered if he should just put down this stupid book, but then something caught his eye;

 _The Overland boy was at it again today. This time tying bells round the necks of chickens and setting them loose on the streets. They were easy enough to get settled again, once baited with corn, but the bells still ring in my ears. ...Perhaps the idea of apprenticeship is not a good one._

Danny, surprised, snorted with laughter at the entry before being hushed by a nearby librarian. He cleared his throat but still had a huge grin on his face that he couldn't quite get ahold of. Now a good deal less bored (but quite distracted by his _new_ research, call it productive procrastination if you will), he flipped through the pages of the journal, looking for a certain surname. Once Danny found it again he, with a new purpose, dove in reading.

 _Last night it stormed fiercely, and most places are buried in snow. I set out this morn to gather wood for the hearth, as it seems as though we shall suffer from the cold for a long while._

 _While doing so, I came across the Overland boy again. His forename is Jack, I discovered. He wasn't engaged in the same activity as myself, which I had first suspected. Instead, he was working with something akin to a wood shoe with blades on the bottom of them. A wooden platform, leather heel and straps, with an iron blade fastened to the plank. When I came across him, he was sharpening the blade._

 _It didn't seem a practical weapon and I inquired as to what he intended to use them for. The boy then explained to me an activity he calls 'skating'. Apparently, it was learned to him by nomads passing through from another place. From what I understand, the planks are attached to one's shoe and the blades are used to glide across thick ice._

 _I think that perhaps I should garner his assistance in making several pairs. I'll give the boy a few silvers for his work and find buyers who may want them in northern territory._

Not exactly the story he was looking for but still really cool. This kid was making his own ice skates?

Danny, now more curious, read through the journal with a quicker pace. Sometimes he would quietly chuckle, and other times he would outright snort with laughter (which was usually followed by a 'shh!' from the librarian).

The entries about Jack and his family got more numerous and it was blatant that Edward had gotten close to the family with his time in "Burgess' Town". Danny wondered if it was only because he was hoping to gain Jack as an apprentice.

When he was nearing the end of the journal (and drawing close to his curfew), the halfa decided that he wanted to learn more about this Jack Overland. After all, Jack Overland seemed like the better option than anything else. Not to mention the best excuse that Danny could give to his teacher for an incomplete project.

Danny was now completely disregarding the fact that he had a history project to finish, having been thoroughly engaged by a new subject of research. Instead, the teenager checked out several books, and other documents, that even briefly mentioned Jack Overland from the library (including the almost finished journal) before starting his way home.

After eating something small for dinner, Danny set to patrolling the streets of Amity from the sky, beating back a few ghosts as he did so. Rather uneventful, the most notable event of the night was the Box Ghost stirring up trouble at the dockside warehouse.

After taking care of that minor issue, only taking up three minutes if that, Danny had gone back to patrolling. Thankfully, there were only a few level one ghosts lurking in the alleys. The night was still young when Danny deemed the streets of Amity Park safe enough for him to go back home.

When he did return home, Danny was able to open a few of the books that he'd gotten earlier in the evening. Even though there hadn't been many ghosts out tonight, Danny still felt as though he'd been waiting for far too long to get back into his… well, procrastination, really.

It felt kinda lame to be excited about this, but to be fair this was the most that Danny had to look forward to from the past… almost what felt like forever really. There weren't any life-threatening ghosts, he wasn't running from the government or his parents, and it wasn't really school work.

Danny was just reading alone in a quiet room. And for a moment, he could kinda forget everything else and just focus on the Overlands' lives instead of his own.

On the topic of the Overlands, Jack Overland was not only interesting himself, but had a compelling family history. A great uncle of his, for example, was a travelling mercenary that had once saved an entire family from a band of thieves.

Danny decided that the best course of action was to first finish the old journal of Edward (still no last name mentioned; that wasn't good for his history report if he couldn't prove their relation), which he was now holding and flipping through to find the place where he left off.

He found another page mentioning the surname 'Overland' and stopped there, ignoring a lengthy paragraph about Edward's rambling on the cold weather.

 _I truly cannot tell whether I want that Overland boy as an apprentice or not._

Danny grinned in amusement. Even though Edward knew Jack's first name, he only ever used it when he was in a good mood. Whenever Jack was causing a ruckus, through good-natured hijinks, he was always referred to as 'the Overland boy'. Preparing himself for a mischievous surprise, Danny continued reading.

 _While he seems to know a good few things about woodwork and crafting, he seems too wild to use this gift properly. Today, in fact,_

Oh, here we go!

 _he fashioned himself a sturdy pair of stilts. Not only did he not use them for the intended brush-clearing (which is quite needed, with snow weighing down the boughs of the trees), he instead uses them to shake the branches, causing the snow to fall atop the heads of waiting children. I will have to make this decision carefully; I refuse to take in a recalcitrant apprentice._

The Danny paused and wondered if Jack Overland himself had written any kind of journal. If it was published. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he'd _love_ a firsthand account of the things he did.

 _I leave tomorrow._

Damn it all to hell.

 _Jack Overland is talented, resourceful, as well as creative. But it is plain to see that he has no passion nor interest to be my apprentice._

 _The child is wild. Too much so, just like the snow storms that wreak havoc here. Sometimes I honestly wonder if the old stories are true and the boy is some sort of changeling._

Danny snorted, which was rather hypocritical for a half-ghost.

 _Today I say my farewells to the Overland Family. Something eats at me as I prepare my horses for travel, if only in the back of my mind. This will more likely than not be the last time I see them. Though, perhaps, I may seek to return. I have gotten close to them, after all. There can be no way that I know for certain._

Wait- no, no, no. No, _no_. Danny scanned through the journal. Once for any mention of Edward's last name and second for anything else that mention about the Overlands.

Unfortunately, Danny had no such luck.

Danny, figuring that he was already neck deep in this productive procrastination, then picked up another Journal. This time by the Mayor of Burgess, a man named Thaddeus Burgess (no surprise here).

Danny did a quick Wikipedia search and according to it, the man was daring, and was 'the first' to brave the winters and build a cabin there, (Danny was pretty sure that the Native Americans were the one to first figure out, but unfortunately such was history.)

Danny flipped back to the copy of the journal and raised his brows as his suspicions were proven true.

Thaddeus, as it was written in the journals, came in the fall when he was a young man. The Natives or the Iroquois tribe warned him of the harsh winters, and told him and his family what to do to prepare.

Danny also soon discovered that the Natives and Thaddeus's settlement went along _really_ well. The natives permitted Thaddeus to live with them in return for trade and help in the fields and to respect sacred lands. Longhouses and cabins were more often than not side to side. A rare exception to the usual bloodshed at first sight. There was also a phenomenal lack of disease from what Danny could see.

Thaddeus seemed exceptionally respectful of the Indigenous people and their customs; in his journal he only ever mentioned them in a good light. More often than not, it was clear that Thaddeus admired their ability to live off the land, even in the cold that plagued the area.

Danny, himself, was rather impressed with the heaps of research, diagrams of plants, animal hides and more came with the journal. It was also multi-lingual too. There was Latin, Greek, mostly Norwegian, Iroquois and hardly _any_ English.

Danny frowned, why was there almost no English? And why the heck was it _this_ mixture of languages? The only language that made sense was Iroquois, the Native language that Thaddeus had learned to save himself and his family from dying during the cold winter.

Danny then paused, Sam was a huge history buff and was always spewing facts as much as Danny himself ranted about space. He recalled her saying something about how English was once considered to be a barbaric language spoken mostly only in bars and in the wrong side of the streets. And that the more upper-class people used what was considered to be more 'sophisticated' languages. Greek, and Latin.

Well, alright. Now that Danny thought of it, Greek and Latin did make a lot more sense. Thaddeus must've been a part of some upper class before he'd come to America.

But for the love of all that's holy why _Norwegian_?

Danny scanned through the pages.

 _Jeg savner Norge, ingenting er det samme her._

Danny paused. "...Google translate it is then," He muttered under his breath.

Danny grabbed his phone that rested on top of his nightstand by his bed and found the translation.

 _I miss Norway, nothing is the same here._

Danny blinked, "Well. _That_ explains it."

Alright, now that all of this was pulled aside, and he had a bit more background, Danny decided to try and find more information about the Overlands, or more specifically, Jack Overland.

Danny placed the phone next to him on his bed, he had a feeling that he was going to need it.

Much to Danny's amusement, Thaddeus had a lot to say about the Overland family once they came to live in the town the natives shared with them.

The Overland family turned out to _also_ be from Norway. Or at the very least, Jack's father was. The journal didn't disclose the reason Mr. Overland came to America (or how), but Thaddeus and Jon Overland (Jack's dad) got along very well, despite the obvious social class difference between them.

So, did their wives, apparently. Mrs. Overland or Esther Overland were well-met friends too, despite the fact that Johanna Burgess was from Norway and Esther Overland was from England.

The real juicy stuff came from the fact that their children didn't get along at _all_. The Overland children, Jack and his sister Flee, and the Burgess' boy, Torstein, were consistently at odds, so Danny had come to see.

In a lot of Thaddeus' records, both Jack and Torstein always returned with bruises. Flee, also partaking in this feud, seemed to have the sharpest of insults towards Torstein. Thaddeus always suspected that quick tongue of hers was the reason behind majority of the fights.

Flee's insults became what Danny _lived_ for. Just as much as Danny loved Jack's pranks.

By far one of the best insults by far was when Flee, looked at Torstein in the eye in front of Thaddeus and said;

 _Torstein, you are like a swan. Elegant, graceful. Gliding across the water as if nothing else is its equal. But underneath the water's surface you have these big, ugly, black flippers. Clumsily paddling their way. And in one-point Torstein, you'll have to come out of the water for everyone to see. Or face the consequences and drown._

At that point Danny just had to put the Journal down for the epic burn that he was centuries late for and realize that he'd never be that witty. If anyone had seen him, Danny would have a hard time explaining why he was whooping, fist-pumping the air with a huge grin on his face.

Meanwhile Jack's pranks also took a dark turn whenever it came to Torstein. More acrimonious and less amiable. Or at least, Thaddeus seemed sure that it was Jack Overland, but never really had the proof.

From what Thaddeus written, Torstein had his own advantages. But from the sound of it, Torstein's actions were more pure brutality and shocking violence than anything else.

Yeah, Jack Overland did pull a few pranks that were definitely not ok, but Torstein seemed to be like the kind of guy to bring a knife to a fist fight. Danny was able to see this, despite how much Thaddeus tried to paint it otherwise with his journal.

The journal didn't go too deep on what Flee, Jack and Torstein did in there spare time together. Mainly because Thaddeus didn't seem to really be sure of what it was himself. As much as he seemed to love Esther and Jon, he seemed to have a deep disdain for the Overland kids.

All of that changed though when later, when Thaddeus saw Flee save Torstein from being stomped to death by his own horse.

From what Danny read, Flee was _incredibly_ fast. Thaddeus written repeatedly that some people believed that she could outrun the wind itself, and apparently, Thaddeus believed it.

This speed was what saved Torstein from almost certain death. Thaddeus before the incident seemed to disprove of Flee's speed. Often saying in Norwegian that;

 _No woman should be that fast. There cannot be a holy god that would bless a girl with that kind of swiftness._

Danny concluded that Thaddeus was sexist. Like most men of the time.

But after that event, Thaddeus seemed to grow a warm approval of Flee, not that she seemed to ever have a need for it in the first place. Danny hoped that this approval made things easier, even if by a little, in regard to Torstein, but that didn't seem to be the case as he read further.

Thaddeus's feelings never seemed to differ when it came to Jack Overland, always displeased with him and his bruises.

Thaddeus did though have a grudging respect with how much Jack loved his sister, and that Jack would do anything for her. Thaddeus had a strong suspicion that Jack would even die for his sister if necessary. And when asked, Jack Overland would always race Flee, even though he would lose each and every time.

Danny then looked on the time on his phone and groaned, it was past midnight.

And yeah, there was no school. But there was always ghost fights. Vlad being gone only made the number of attacks less personal.

Hesitantly, Danny put the book down on his nightstand. Danny had the strong suspicion that it was going to be like this for a while.

 _. . ._

Unfortunately, Danny was right.

He has not slept properly for days. Which was nothing new to be honest, but instead of school work it was Danny's 'productive procrastination'.

But if Danny was getting graded for this, He can comfortably say that he would earn a A+. Just like he would with video games and astronomy.

Night after night after _night_ , Danny read journal after journal. Danny now retained a staggering knowledge about the Overlands.

One of the things Danny learned was that it was now called Burgess for a reason and that the Native name it was called was long forgotten. And if Danny wasn't sure if Torstein was a jerk before, he knew for certain now.

After his father died, Torstein stole the land from the natives and broke the treaty his father held with the chief and named the settlement after himself, claiming that 'god willed it' and that this is what his 'father's dying wish'.

However, Danny was 100% sure that it really had to do with the rumor that there was gold in the Iroquois sacred lands. (There wasn't any, but that didn't matter after the fact; as they had already 'claimed' the land.)

Danny was too busy fuming for _hours_ to read any more after that. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he may or may not have taken his frustration out on Skulker, who had shown up while he'd been out flying to cool off.

These kind of documents, strangely, didn't say anything about Jack Overland. But Torstein proposed to Flee many times, only for her deny his proposal over and over again and, eventually, she married someone else.

The journals at this time period say that Flee didn't run like the wind anymore and, no matter who wrote it, they would say that it was her way of grieving.

Danny felt something in him fill with unease, but he pushed it to the side.

Many people found Jack Overland strange. That it was 'strange' how he never seemed to take a fancy to any girl, or the way he would look boys his age a bit too long than what was considered normal.

But oddly enough, they seemed to dismiss this faint suspicion when they saw how well he was with children. Usually concluding Jack Overland couldn't be _that_ way if he could work so well with the younger ones.

Now at this, Danny snorted. The stereotypes they had during that time period were the most off-the-rail he'd ever heard.

Many of the children at Jack's time when they grew up had mostly fond memories of the shenanigans Jack Overland brought with him. The quiet words of encouragement, and his stories that the once children always described as raw and enduring.

The unsettling feeling deepened in Danny's stomach.

Then Danny finally found it, a firsthand account of the Overland's life.

Flee's journal. Or, an exact copy.

The first few pages where rough letters of the alphabet. And what looked like her practicing over and over again. There were scribbles of failures and what looked like tear drops of frustration.

After a dozen or more pages in, the letters became words. Almost all of them misspelled at first but then steadily she became better.

From reading Flee's journal, Danny found that it was Jack Overland himself that was teaching her. Always telling her that it had to be their secret.

Danny already knew why without further explanation; more likely than not it was illegal for Jack to teach Flee how to read and write. If not, then Flee would've been shunned from the community, along with Jack Overland as well at some point or on some level.

Flee wrote that Jack always brought the journal with him so that people would assume it was his, (Flee only agreed to this after Jack Overland promised not to read it).

Danny also discovered that Jack only agreed to teach her because she asked.

Reading her journals, Danny learned a lot about Jack. That he loved puzzles and riddles, that he started the races, that he was fast but taught her to be faster, and that he would climb to the top of the tallest trees only for a glimpse of the world up high.

Once she was a few years older, Jack Overland let Flee hide the journal herself. Jack claimed to the locals that she liked to pretend, and that it was easier to have someone else hold it. That for Jack's lessons, The family could only afford one notebook and he gave it to _her_.

Was Danny impressed? Definitely. Most people at the time wouldn't give up things like notebooks and pens. Only the wealthy had them and the only way Danny could guess on how the Overlands could give Jack the notebook was if they asked Thaddeus before he died while they were good friends.

Notebooks for anyone who couldn't write were worthless though. Which made sense on why Jack would make a show of it instead of just simply not letting anyone know. Or perhaps his parents already made a spectacle of it so Jack and Flee made-do.

Danny also figured that the town knew enough of Jack Overland's pranks to decide that it was not worth looking into.

Danny continued reading. It was well past midnight when Danny found a passage that made him stop in his tracks. The ink here was smudged, as if written in hasty movements and with shaky hands. Once more, there were dark water splotches that littered the page, and they looked so heavy and seemed to weigh down the page in more ways than one.

 _It was my fault. It's my fault that my brother drowned in the lake. Jack's dead. And he can't move on. Not while he's not buried._

Several pages were blank after that. Danny flipped almost frantically only to find nothing.

Danny put the book down and sat back on his knees, a frown on his face. He could feel his chest tightening… was this the way Jazz felt when she read? God, why would anyone subject themselves to this?

He felt stupid as he scrubbed at his moist eyes. This happened _hundreds_ of years ago. He _knew_ that they would be dead. In one way, or another. But the way Flee wrote it was enough to put him on the edge.

After a long pause, he allowed his transformation rings to pass over him and he drifted outside into the open air. As he felt the wind against his face, Danny felt his thoughts wander to the boy that drowned in the lake. Jack Overland.

Danny didn't tend to linger on one train of thought for too long, something he'd inherited from his father no doubt, but for some reason he couldn't let his mind stray too far from that boy. His mind then wandered back to Flee's last words in the journal.

Did Jack have a ghost? The intrusive thought wormed its way into his mind. It was plausible, all things considered. Jack Overland wasn't the first to die young and he wouldn't be the last either. Ember, Kitty, Johnny Thirteen, Youngblood, even himself (sort of) all served as examples of that.

If Jack Overland was a ghost, he likely wouldn't stray too far from where he died. Danny hadn't heard that Burgess was a rift site (rift site being where natural ghost portals formed commonly), so he probably wouldn't be in the Ghost Zone. Though he could be wrong.

Theoretically, if he was going to go looking for Jack's ghost, which was strange for Danny to consider, what with all the ghosts that usually found _him_ first, he should start in Burgess, Pennsylvania.

If he didn't find him there, maybe he could ask around the Ghost Zone. Johnny owed him a favor, anyway, and he was sure that the other ghost could name a few connections to get in touch with.

…Was he seriously considering this just from reading journals? Danny rubbed his temples and concluded that not only was he _considering_ it, he was _planning_ on it.

As Danny started his flight home, he came to the realization that he was never going to get this project done. But then again, finding Jack Overland's ghost seemed like the better alternative than ghost fighting or the stupid history project.

Besides, he could probably just fudge a good deal of it anyway. With how crazy his _current_ family was, nobody in Amity Park would doubt anything that he put down on paper.

He'd leave in the morning, leave a note telling his parents he was going to go back to the library for his history project, and go to Burgess. Just for a look around.

Danny finally made it back home and got under the covers, going over everything in his head, as if trying to make some sense of it all. Should he bring the journal with him, to show Jack how he was able to find him? Probably a good idea. Was Jack even a ghost? Well, there was only one way to find out.

And if not, Danny knew where Flee was buried, and had an idea on where Jack was. At the very least he could pay his respects and lay down a few flowers.

With that sleepy thought in mind, Danny turned over and promptly fell asleep


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two;**

Danny decided that the best course of action would to pack a bag with everything he might need. Especially since Danny lived in Illinois and Burgess was in Pennsylvania.

Danny packed a phone, a map of Burgess printed off from Google Maps, a GPS, a cord, portable solar charger, his waterproof watch, and a _boat-ton_ of snacks. Mostly sandwiches, energy bars, fruit, and water bottles.

He also had pictures of the journal on his phone, mainly because if Danny _did_ manage to find Jack, at least then Danny could provide a way to prove that he wasn't some crazy without lugging a half-dozen books with him along with everything else.

He also had some flowers for Flee and Jack, but that was about it. No weapons, no backup, no military strategy. Just… this.

It felt nice. Danny also felt grossly unprepared, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Danny swung the grey hikers-backpack onto his shoulders and began to thump downstairs, biting his lower lip.

"Hey. Mom, Dad..."

Danny waited for an answer. Nothing.

"Mom, Dad!" Danny called again, louder.

"Hmm?" Came a distracted hum from Jack Fenton.

"I'm going out!"

"Oh?" Jack Fenton waved Danny off as he worked on the strange gadget on the kitchen table. "Sure, have fun!"

Danny paused as he waited for his mom to say _anything_. To look away from her tools for a _moment_ and un-furrow her brows from concentration to tell him something. Remind him to bring something, to ask who was going with him, where he was going; the kind of questions like all moms do. This was the kind of thing Maddie Fenton _should_ do, after all.

Instead, she said nothing. She didn't even look up from what she was invested in.

Danny swayed on the toes and heel of his feet, "I'm going to Pennsylvania." The moment Danny said it he froze from the stupidity of it. Danny held his breath and waited for an answer.

Nothing. Whatever it was that had Jack Fenton peel his attention from his invention had flickered out.

As much as Danny hated it, he felt something in him crumble and withdraw.

Danny turned to the door, "I'll see you guys later," he muttered. He let his shoes thump loudly as he left through the front door.

And still, Danny heard nothing.

 _. . ._

Danny slumped his shoulders. The trees here were so thick that they tuned out all and any wifi signals, and flying seemed like the only clear way to see the lake, but there were definitely no signals up there either.

It really didn't help that the GPS was a _total_ bust. Flickering in and out until finally the screen fuzzed to black no matter how many smacks he gave it with his HAZMAT-gloved hand. The good news was that the GPS had failed once he was already in Pennsylvania and in the general area of Burgess.

The only thing that gave Danny even a _general_ direction of where he was going now was the Google Map that he was glad he'd had the foresight to print out. The problem with that, however, was that the paper kept flapping in the wind. Danny had to slow down so he could read and follow directions properly.

This wasn't really a huge problem, though. Minus the fact that Danny's patience was wearing thin after hours of traveling, flying, and getting lost _repeatedly_.

Danny was, understandably, _exhausted_. Contrary to popular belief, flying took the same amount of energy as walking or running (depending on how fast Danny went).

So, basically, the energy Danny had used was equal to if someone walked, jogged and even ran for roughly 639 miles. And, according to his watch, Danny had been traveling for approximately 3 to 4 hours _straight_. The only reason that Danny even had an _ounce_ of hope of flying back at all was that his ghost hunting had built up his stamina for him to do something like this.

Danny blinked as he finally saw it; a small, nearly forgotten graveyard. He swooped down and landed on his feet, not even flinching when the white beams sliced across him through the middle. Danny's grey-white hair turned to midnight and his poisonous green eyes reverted back to a more human blue that lacked the unearthly glow that only his ghost form's eyes could possess.

Danny heaved as he tried to regain his breath, similar to how a jogger would after a long run. Danny let his bag slide off his shoulders as he, in groggy movements, opened it and devoured several energy bars and drank nearly half of a water bottle in one gulp.

By a few minutes, Danny's breath slowed as he turned to his bag once more and pulled out a handmade bouquet of flowers. It was a jumble of all sorts of flowers. Some of the stems were broken and petals were missing. But, for the most part, it stayed reasonably together.

Danny wasn't going to lie, he couldn't help but feel guilty for the condition of the bouquet. Danny glanced around the graveyard as if a ghost was going to dig out and shame him. And all things considering, it was plausible. Thankfully, the place seemed quiet. It was clear that no one had been buried here in years.

Danny zipped up the bag and swung it over his shoulders once more.

From flying for so long, Danny's legs shook from the new adjustment. His legs felt like rubber and his right foot was rather numb. It was an unfortunate side effect of flying with a ghostly tail, at least one of his feet always fell asleep, sometimes both. Clumsily, Danny looked for Flee's grave.

Danny's legs slowly steadied, his foot starting to feel normal again, but finding the grave was no easy feat. All the headstones that were from the appropriate time where worn flat and many more Danny suspected were covered in vines

It was absolute dumb luck that Danny found it. That, and Danny suddenly having an idea on where it could be from Flee's own journal. But of course, valuable information must always come to Danny late.

In the journal, Jack and Flee would come to a small hill late in the dark and look at the stars together when the night was warm and the work load less than usual.

Even if Danny only knew her through the journals, he felt his heart drop to his stomach as he looked at the grave.

Danny stood very still as the world went quiet, as if holding its breath. The only sound being the wind that softly whistled in Danny's ears and the swaying of the grass and branches. The bouquet felt loose in Danny's hand until he tightened his grip once more.

Danny placed the flowers on top of the headstone, being careful to not walk over Flee's grave. His hand hovered above the place where Danny placed the flowers before he withdrew it back to his side.

Danny opened his mouth to say something, but, only to realize that he didn't really have anything worth saying. And Flee from the Journals seemed like one that valued only words that meant something.

So, instead, Danny said nothing.

Danny clenched and unclenched his hands, before deciding to leave, feeling strangely as though he saw something that he shouldn't've.

Danny decided to walk to the lake, his legs seemingly acting on their own record. As if something had pulled him there.

Not that Danny mind walking for a bit, he had a long flight home. (about _three hours_ to be exact.) Not that he was exactly on a time crunch; his parents no doubt thought he was in his room.

Danny smacked a tree branch out of the way, and another, and another.

Danny loves nature, truly. But all he'd seen for the past hour of walking were _trees_. And Danny was too drained to just phase through them.

The first thing Danny felt when he found a clearing was relief. He was _done_ moving thick branches out of the way.

The moment Danny actually processed his surroundings, he felt wonder. Even though it was only fall, the place was encased in frost and the scene before him glittered like diamonds in the light.

Then a frown settled on Danny's face as he remembered that a body was sunk at the bottom. Death never seemed so harsh and ugly and _real_ than in moments such as this.

All because, for better or for worse, Danny found the infamous lake.

Danny turned to a nearby tree and gasped at what he saw, eyes growing wide like a child in a candy shop. The frost was detailed in an almost playful fashion.

Danny moved on from the trees and then observed the lake. If he'd thought the frost on the trees was lovely, the patterns of frost atop the lake were just something else entirely. They were much more detailed, precise, as if someone had made them while lost in thought.

Danny, traditionally, was completely unaware that someone was watching him.

 _. . ._

Jack Frost looked at the dark-haired boy unimpressed, but slightly curious. Most people who come here usually do so on a dare or were pitifully lost.

Jack Frost looked at the boy with weary eyes, then promptly face-palmed when the teen, wearing a thin red jacket, began walking on the ice without checking how thick it was.

Jack Frost decided that the teen with the red jacket was absolutely void of common sense and, ultimately, a moron.

Not that Jack Frost should be one to judge when it comes to impulsive decisions, but he _died_ here; he should have a smidge of an excuse to be a stick in the mud when it came to matters like this.

Jack's fingers dragged off his face and he placed his staff against the tree as he silently asked the wind to carry him close to the idiot that was already nearing to the center, looking at the ice not caring or paying any attention of his surroundings.

Honestly Jack didn't know why he started flying towards the other boy, it wasn't like he could catch him. But, the wind could. And maybe that would be enough, should the worst occur.

Once more Jack Frost looked around, for a friend or anyone really nearby this guy that made bad decisions. Only not to see anyone.

By now, Jack was only a few feet away from the other boy.

Maybe the guy heard something, maybe the wind whistled in his ears too loudly or maybe the other boy heard a branch snap. Whatever the cause, Jack watched the boy's head swivel into his general direction.

Jack Frost expected a blank stare that would pass through him, as that's what typically happened. The other boy, however, strangely seemed to train his eyes on him.

Not that this was too surprising to Jack; there would be times where people would _appear_ to be staring at him, but it was always something behind Jack. The winter spirit almost spun around to check what the other boy was actually looking at when 'red jacket guy' turned to face him.

"You're Jack Overland, right?"

Now _that_ … was new.

Jack Frost could hear the wind howling with laughter as he was drifting in the air, paralyzed. No one called him by his old surname… No one had looked him in the eye for a long, long time as an equal.

The boy was still looking at Jack and it was making his skin itch, "Please say yes, I've been looking for this guy like crazy." The boy paused, furrowing his brow as be thought over his words. "That… came out wrong."

Jack Frost blinked, jaw slack. "Who- who are you, exactly?"

The boy mocked a bow with a grin. "Danny Fenton, at your service-"

Both winced as a cracking noise emitted from Danny's feet.

With eyes wide, Jack grabbed Danny around the waist and lifted him off the ground as the ice shattered apart like glass, showing a black void of murky water underneath.

It took Danny a moment to realize what had just happened and why he was now nose-to-nose with the teen he assumed was Jack Overland. Well, his ghost anyway.

Thinking a bit more clearly, Danny reasoned that he should have just hovered slightly above the lake. However, flying or really using any kind of ghost powers was kind of the last thing Danny wanted to do right now, despite the fact that Danny was more than capable if the situation called for it. Jack Overland did save him the trouble of losing anything in the water or just being wet in general.

It wasn't as though the cold water would do much besides give him an uncomfortably wet and chafe-y flight home (thank you, icy ghost core), but Danny was glad that the other boy had acted fast enough to pull him away.

 _Speaking of which_ , Danny thought to himself as he regained control of his racing mind, _I should probably say something. Anything. Open mouth, do words._

"Uh… thanks! Yeah, thanks! I'm Danny Fenton; that's… what I was saying before. Uh, before the ice… yeah." Danny was barely able to articulate. _That's what you're going with. Okay. Just tell him to drop you in the water now to save himself._

Had his arms not been pinned to his sides, Danny would slap his face at the sheer stupidity of his lame display of gratitude.

Well, it wasn't exactly his fault! He'd not been sleeping well lately, his trip here took _hours_ , and his brain was a glorified pile of mush at this point. Not to mention, he was still being held tightly against the floating boy. _That_ , in and of itself, would have probably been enough to melt the scattered remnants of his brain _anyway_.

Wanting to correct that lame 'thank you', without actually taking back what he said, Danny naturally began talking; letting the words just fall out of his mouth before thinking.

"I wandered around _forever_ trying to find this place. Ah, to find you. I mean, even getting nearby was suckish. My GPS crapped out on me, so I had to use a map, but I'm really bad at reading maps and using a compass so I was making educated guesses for a lot of it. Do you know how many miles of woods surround this place? _A lot_. I thought the limbs on the trees would end up breaking mine before I was able to get somewhere without them. It's been hours, no joke. I swear I've gotten my fill of wilderness for a lifetime."

The halfa finally regained control over his yapping mouth when he realized how much he was saying in comparison to his companion.

Danny wasn't sure if the look of shock on the other teen's face was because of what happened as far as the ice breaking, or because of the word vomit that Danny had just so gracefully _spewed_ without thinking.

Meanwhile, Jack was trying to process _several_ things at once and found himself overloaded.

Okay, item number one. _What in the frostbitten arctic was this absolute idiot thinking_?! What exactly what his endgame, traipsing around ice that was semi-solid at best?! Oh, wait, he said he was looking for _him._ Duh _._

That brought him to item number two. How did this guy know him? And by a name he hadn't heard, nor gone by, in _centuries_?

Item three. He was securely in his arms. As in, Jack was _holding_ him. Solidly. Oh… whoa. _This_ was new. _This_ was… _crazy_. He could _hold_ him. Unconsciously, Jack tightened his hold as if to make things more real for him. Yes, he was definitely holding someone in his arms. He could feel the warmth radiating from the human boy. Danny, he said his name was.

Jack was at a loss. What exactly was going on, he had no idea. Though he assumed that the best way to start figuring things out was to say something in return.

"You just nearly died… just now, not even a minute ago, and your first topic of conversation… is our location?" Jack asked, genuinely surprised and, if he was honest, rather amused.

Danny opened his mouth and then shut it, "Well, I wouldn't say that I _nearly died_ exactly-"

Jack cut him a sharp look.

Danny briefly considered telling Jack that 'you can't fix dead' as an answer but then decided that, perhaps that wasn't the best course of action. "Alright, fair enough."

Jack then shifted Danny into bridal-style carrying position, which Danny couldn't help but be grateful for. Danny's arms were starting to get cramped, and walking, standing or even flying was the last thing he wanted right now.

Jack Overland seemed to flounder for words, "What- _how_ do you even know my last name? They don't call me Overland anymore."

"What do they call you then? And who's _they_? You're not a part of some undead cult or something, are you?" Danny asked far too casually.

Jack rose his head in something similar to pride, "They call me Jack Frost," Jack Frost then made a face as he processed that last sentence Danny said. "And no, I'm not a part of a cult. The 'they' are the other spirits and Guardians."

"That sounds like a cult." Danny said bluntly. He then raised his arms in surrender. "Not judging, just saying."

"Hey, you still haven't answered _my_ question." Jack Frost said.

Danny made a mental note that Jack Frost didn't bother denying it again. "You kinda started off as a personal excuse and a better alternative to my history family tree project and I honestly didn't think it would go this far."

Jack Frost blinked, "Are we relatives?" They looked _nothing_ alike, from head to toe they couldn't have looked any more different.

Danny snorted. "Ha, hell no. Not even close. I did like, three hundred years of research and we are the first official meeting from either family lines." Danny paused, "My great, something, great Uncle might've met you. Does the name Edward ring any bells?"

Jack frowned in thought as he wracked his memories for an 'Edward'. It took him several minutes before he could remember someone specific from the time he was alive.

"Oh, yeah, I think so. That neighbor who only hung around for a half-year that always communicated in grunts and looks. He was your great-something Uncle? You don't look related at all, just saying. Well, besides the black hair, anyway… so, I'm a research project? I think I should be flattered, right?" Jack asked with a grin.

Danny nearly rolled his eyes but refrained. Instead he met Jack's cocky grin with one of his own.

"I mean, you got the attention of me, a C-minus average kid that doesn't typically read for fun; so yeah, I'd say that you should be flattered."

Jack decided that, even if this guy had nearly caused him to have a stroke, he liked Danny well enough.

Now it was time for the next question. Jack Frost unconsciously held Danny closer and gave a weary glance at the ice below them, "So, wait. Hold on. If you only knew of me as Jack _Overland_ then how come you can see me?"

Danny gave Jack Frost a blank look. " _What_?"

Jack tore his eyes away from the ice, "Only kids who believe in me can see me," Jack eyed Danny, "or, really anybody who believes in me I guess."

"Sorry, but I just have more questions now." Danny said. "Like, for starters, why _Jack Frost_? And aren't spirits the same thing as ghosts?"

Jack Frost then abruptly stopped "I- wait- hold on. You think I'm a _ghost_?"

"Well… " Danny said matter-of-factly yet gently, "you _did_ drown in this lake."

"You… you know of that?" Jack Frost paused. "Oh, right. The Journals." He then shook his head, then hesitated. "I'm dead, but... I'm not? It's weird. It was the man in the moon that brought me back."

"The… man in the… moon." Danny said slowly. "Alright, ok. Please put me down." Now Danny didn't really care that he was still above ice. Jack had obviously lost some screws along the way.

"I'm- I'm not crazy!" Jack Frost stuttered. "I- look. I have a heartbeat, pulse, _something_. I don't know what it is exactly or, how whatever this is works. But-" Jack swallowed. "I'm not dead. At least, not completely."

Jack slowly placed Danny down on firm soil when they reached it. "And I can prove it." Jack reached out his arm, "This is how you guys take a pulse, right?"

Not being dead but kind of dead? Danny could relate. He took Jack's hand and looked for a pulse.

There was a pulse. It wasn't a heartbeat, but it wasn't a pulse of ectoplasm ether. And Danny suddenly realized that Jack didn't even _once_ triggered Danny's ghost sense.

Danny slowly withdrew his hand, "Um, wow. Ok, I believe you."

Jack Frost deflated in relief.

Danny himself had a pulse. Sometimes ectoplasm spreading from his core, sometimes blood spreading from his heart. Jack had neither, so that crossed out Jack Frost being another halfling (Danny liked this better then 'halfa'). Or a ghost. Or a human. Period.

This was weird. Very weird. It called for a subject change.

Danny pointed to the bag that he brought that was lumped by the edge of the lake, "I brought you flowers."

Jack Frost raised a brow and gave an impish smirk. "Flowers? For me?"

Danny rolled his eyes, "yes, I have flowers. For you." Danny grabbed the second bouquet. Just like the first it was a little broken and witling with flower petals missing. Frost was starting to almost grow on it like moss. But still reasonably together.

Jack in turn rose both eyebrows.

Danny then suddenly realized that Jack Frost might not entirely realize what the flowers were for, and saying; 'These were for your dead body, I swear!' did not sound like the best thing to say at the time.

So instead, Danny figured that it would be best to say nothing of the matter and clumsily gave the mismatched flowers to Jack.

Jack Frost glanced at the flowers then back to Danny, amused, "Isn't this the part where I take you home or something?"

Danny nearly melted in relief, "Oh my god _please do_ ," Danny paused, "Like, you don't have to. But it would really make my day."

Jack Frost shrugged, "Sure man," Jack could literally go from Russia to South America to Australia in the matter of minutes thanks to the wind. Wherever Danny needed to go would be no problem. Especially since It looked like the guy walked here, he couldn't have been more than a few miles out tops.

Jack went to go get his staff, "You're going to have to hold my staff and flowers though."

"Fair enough." Danny got his bag, placed the flowers back inside and took the staff from Jack's hands. Danny then looked questionably at the staff. "Why do we want to carry a big stick with us?"

"Ok, first of all, It's not a stick. It's a staff. Second, it conducts my 'frosty abilities' or whatever. So, I need it. Third, I'm in physical pain when it's broken and stuff so break it and I'll drop you."

Jack Frost didn't really mean the threat, but the other teen seemed too relaxed about the idea of plummeting hundreds of feet in the air.

Danny nodded, as if it was remotely reasonable. "fair enough."

Jack Frost paused and stared at Danny. He considered telling Danny that it was a joke but decided against it. "... well alright then." Once more Jack picked Danny up from the ground carrying him bridal style, "Where do you want to be dropped off?"

"Amity Park, Illinois." Danny said this as if he was giving directions to the closest gas station.

Jack stared blankly at Danny. "You do realize that we're in Pennsylvania, right?"

"I'm aware." Danny said.

Jack Frost nearly dropped Danny to pull at his hair. "How- How did you even _get_ here?!"

Finally, the other dark-haired boy was starting to show some discomfort. "I… walked. And hitchhiked! Yeah, um, there was totally some hitchhiking involved."

Jack narrowed his brows, "You know, it would've been almost more believable if you said you were left behind in a camping trip."

"Did you _not_ see me walk to this lake huffing and puffing like I've been walking for days?" Danny challenged, now steeling his voice to sound more sure.

"How _old_ are you-"

"I'm sixteen, a year younger than before you died, I wanna go home, and if necessary I'll walk there _myself_ , so help me god."

Jack Frost started drifting from the ground thanks to the wind's help because the last thing Jack wanted was Danny roaming the highways by himself.

This… was going to be quite a flight.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three;**

Jack Frost placed Danny down on the roof of a building that was under giant billboard that proudly proclaimed: ' _Amity Park, a safe place to live_!' (It was Danny's idea to land there, not Jack's).

"Okay, you can go now." Danny waved Jack Frost off, as if he were shooing away a pigeon. He pushed the flowers and his staff into Jack's arms. Despite his calm voice, Danny had something tense and flighty in his movements. His blue eyes seemed awfully too aware of his surroundings. A strange, bluish mist had begun pooling from his mouth. Danny took off the backpack and rolled his shoulders slightly.

Jack raised a brow. "Uh, I think not. You did what was basically a cross country road trip _just_ so you could see a lake. Somethings up, and it's _literally_ my job to know what."

Danny whipped his head to look at Jack Frost, "I only crossed, like, three states!" The blue mist was becoming thicker. With it, Danny seemed to get more nervous.

"Exactly Danny." Jack Frost said dryly, "Exactly."

Jack Frost opened his mouth to say something else but, before he could speak, a bright green light nearly grazed Jack's head. Jack dropped the flowers and clung his staff to his chest.

And 'nearly grazed' as in Jack Frost would've been beheaded if Danny didn't push him out of the way.

Now, Jack Frost didn't normally curse, but, " _what the actual fuc_ -"

"Whelp!" A flaming robot with a skull-shaped face interrupted Jack Frost. The robot toward over them. "I have come for your pelt!"

If Jack Frost was expecting Danny to be shaking in his boots. (Danny had red sneakers on, but you get the general idea), he was sorely mistaken.

Danny looked so absolutely _done_ with the green-mohawked robot that it would've been funny if they weren't in danger.

Danny then caught Jack Frost looking at him out of his peripherals. Danny changed his expression into one of terror.

Danny must've seen Jack's unconvinced look, because Danny immediately dropped the act and scowled. He huffed quietly, obviously somewhat angry with himself.

The robot gave a menacing grin, gadgets and metal screeched and shifting on top of the other to mimic the facial expression. "I found a new paralyzer, Whelp. One you aren't immune to yet."

Danny sighed in a melodramatic fashion, rubbing his temples.

"But _why_ , though? Don't you have anything _better_ to do? Because I sure do. I would rather do literally _anything_ else than this right now."

"Too bad, Ghost Child." The mech growled and pointed a sleek silver gun, from his arm, at Danny and fired. With reflexes much too quick for a normal sixteen-year-old, Danny jumped out of harm's way with a muttered curse.

Danny glanced at Skulker, then at Jack, then back to Skulker as he struggled to make a decision.

Skulker wasn't the kind of ghost you can just run from and hoped for the best, so that was out of the question. At least for now.

He couldn't exactly Go Ghost, not with Jack Frost being right here. Because he didn't think he'd encounter any ghosts while outside of Amity Park, he hadn't packed any wrist-rays or other human weapons that he could use.

And, unluckily for him, he'd taken the thermos out of his backpack, so, he didn't even have that.

Right, so, Danny had no thermos, no weapons, no ghost powers, and no plan. He'd gotten himself out of worse situations with less.

"You need to work on your aim, dude. I mean, it's not as though I have to do much work with you shooting at the ground instead of me." Danny mocked with a cocky sneer. In reality, Danny just hoped that Skulker didn't see sweat making his hands clammy.

Jack Frost didn't know if he should be impressed or nervous or both. Danny was trying to distract the robot and buy them time. When that should be _Jack's_ job.

The spirit wasn't that surprised to be honest. They'd met while he'd been walking around on thin ice (literally), and now the teen was essentially poking a giant, heavily-armed, metal bear.

Skulker growled.

"I won't miss twice, Whelp." With that, he raised the gun again.

This time, Jack Frost was the one that dove Danny out of the way and Jack then shot a spark of ice at the weapon. Once more Jack grabbed Danny and flew _the heck_ out of there. Danny grabbing his bag by the strap. As Jack maneuvered through the sky, Danny quickly double checked his backpack but, unfortunately, found nothing that could be of use.

Jack Frost turned back to see Skulker, with a bored expression, phase through the ice like it was thin air and follow them.

Jack Frost then turned to Danny, eyes wide, the wind screeching in their ears. "What the heck is going on?! And why does this feel like a scene from some sci-fi movie?!"

Jack Frost made a disgusted face "and, out of _all things_ , why is that thing out for your _pelt_. Your skin! This thing is after your _skin_."

Danny chuckled guiltily. "Long story."

Jack Frost gave an annoyed scowl, "You are _way_ too okay with this."

Instead of responding, Danny pointed behind them. "Turn left! Turn Left!"

Jack spiraled left as another sharp green light aimed right where they were before melted the brick wall.

Now, if Jack Frost was by himself, he would've easily out-flown a chunky robot that was flying with nothing but a couple of jet packs.

However, Jack Frost had Danny in tow and, if he went too fast, Jack could easily break Danny's neck with the whiplash. Something that Jack Frost had a deep desire _not_ to happen.

"Jack, swing right!"

Jack Frost did as he was told, "Danny, where in the nine realms are you taking us?!"

"Just, trust me!" Danny shouted over the wind, "I have an idea!"

Jack Frost considered ignoring Danny's advice and just taking the two of them to Tooth's or Aster's, place (both resided where humans could _technically_ go). But then Jack dashed the idea when he recalled how Skulker just phased through the ice as if it were thin air. Neither of the Guardians would know how to handle a threat like _that_.

So, Jack Frost, seeing no other choice, decide to try and trust Danny's plan. If it didn't work, Jack would use his idea as plan B.

Finally, they reached another roof top, not too far from the first. And thankfully, they seemed to have lost Skulker for the moment. But there was no doubt that he wasn't far behind.

"Hey, um. One question," Jack Frost had _many_ questions, but they really only had time for one. "What is your plan, exactly? Just curious."

Danny found a trap door and pulled out a tube of lipstick, a pencil, and a thermos.

It was at that moment that Jack Frost knew they were doomed.

Danny tossed Jack Frost the lipstick, "You're going to need this. And its Tucker's, so don't scratch it."

Jack Frost gave Danny the most flabbergasted and disbelieving look that he could muster, "Are you _insane_?!"

Danny just sighed as he threw the bag into the trapdoor before closing it.

"It's a _weapon_ , Jack. I'm trying to save your life- existence- whatever you want to call it!"

Jack Frost looked at the lipstick then the pencil and thermos in Danny's hands. Jack held up the tube, "this is _lipstick_." Jack hissed "Lipstick!" He then pointed at the thermos, "What are you going to even do with _that_? Give him a snack before he pulls the trigger?!"

"It's going to save our lives, that's what it's going to do. So, shut up and use the lipstick laser!"

" _Lipstick_ _Laser_?"

At that moment, Skulker caught up with them. "You think you can run from me, Whelp! I will not be stopped _this_ -"

Before Skulker could finish a green light erupted from the end of Danny's pencil and hit Skulker squarely in the arm, sending him reeling and destroying the gun that was in the robot's hand.

Jack's look of utter skepticism turned one of shock and mild wonder as he looked back at the lipstick in his hands, realizing that there was a silver button. "oh my _god_."

Skulker had a look of horror etched onto his face (surprising, considering it was metal), obviously despaired at having one of his favorite guns mutilated.

"My _gun_!"

Danny glanced at Skulker and the weapon he carried on him before the ghost robot could dive out of sight. He could take out the other hinge on the gun to score that offensive weapon or he could shoot through the rocket on his back, crippling his flight for at least 90 seconds of bought time.

Danny went with the latter and pointed his blaster towards the exhaust of the rocket on Skulker's left-hand side. Not only did the rocket stop, but it made a small explosion as well, which sent Skulker into a violent downward spiral.

" _HA._ " Danny shouted with a huge grin, glad that luck was, at least for now, on his side. Danny watched as Skulker was sent in a different direction, shouting curses as he tried to fix his suit.

Danny glanced around at his surroundings, looking for any other advantages that he could use. He noticed a window-washing setup in the far corner, there was no harness, but there _was_ a few disconnected cables as well as the platform to weigh them down.

There were three ways to do this. One, get Jack Frost out of here and Go Ghost, deal with Skulker really quick and offer Jack some kind of explanation later.

Two, use that cord to get off the building and, once on foot, lead Skulker close enough to Elmerton that they could get Val's attention. (However, Danny now suspected that Skulker could be managed without help from the Red Huntress.)

Three, propel down the building, but instead of leading him to Val, pretend to fall, 'Phantom' catches Danny, fight the ghost, and again try to butcher up an explanation to Jack Frost.

Danny muttered something under his breath and looked at Jack Frost.

"Fly, I don't care where, just, get yourself away from here!" The Danny exclaimed. "I can take care of this on my own."

Jack blinked when Danny addressed him before frowning.

"I can't just leave you!" Jack Frost grabbed his staff at the general area of where Sulker was. "This thing is trying to shoot at you and _skin_ you, in case you haven't noticed!" Though Jack wasn't sure about the entire situation. From the way Danny moved, and the way he interacted with that _thing_ , it was apparent that he'd done this before.

From the ways things stood, it seemed as though Danny could handle himself just fine, and had a way better grip on the situation then Jack did. However, Jack Frost wasn't appointed Guardian for no reason. And he was as sure as the moon itself that he was _not_ going to leave Danny to this.

"I promise you, I'll be fine." Danny explained, his eyes darting the dark skies for Skulker to re-surface.

"... Danny, I'm not going to leave you to be _skinned_ _alive_ \- "

" _Dammit_ , he's coming back. Plan B." Danny hissed and tore his jacket off, tying it around his waist tightly while sprinting to the cords. Jack Frost followed close behind, looking around and, sure enough, Skulker was using one rocket-powered wing to approach them, eyes glowing brighter in anger. He was powering up a gun. A _big_ gun. Danny pulled a cord loose and looked at Jack.

"Alright, you wanna help?" He didn't wait for Jack's answer before pointing at Skulker. "I already got one hinge off the weapon hanging on Skulker's shoulder. The metal is warped because of that hit, so he can't pull it back into his arsenal and replace it with something better."

Danny nodded to the lipstick in Jack's hand. "Take the laser and try to get that other hinge, if you can. If I can get that gun, I'll be able to level the playing field a bit. I'll keep his attention from below, so he won't see your attack."

"Once the gun is down, I'll keep him off you and lead him away from town. And watch yourself; just because Skulker's after me doesn't mean he's above causing collateral damage." Danny warned. Holding tightly onto the metal cable, he jumped off the side of the building.

Jack Frost took to the air; Skulker was heading towards them way too fast, Jack noted. He needed to keep the metal guy's attention until Danny was on foot again. With that in mind, Jack whistled and waved.

"Hey, big metal... thing. What are you and why do you like people's skin? Is 'cause you don't haveany? Funny, I didn't think robots could be vain."

"Don't test me, _Spirit_." Skulker spat the last word as though it were a curse. "I am Skulker, the Ghost Zone's _greatest_ Hunter. The likes of _you_ wouldn't understand the pride a hunter takes in his pelts."

" _Pride_? It actually sounds gross. I mean, _really_ gross. I think you lack pride more than anything." Jack tried to keep Skulker talking while Danny propelled down the side of the building. The more time he could give the other teen, the better. Though he wished he could change the topic of conversation.

Jack Frost felt like that he was in some superhero cartoon. And this was, by far, one of the most classic and cheesy examples of witty banter that he'd _ever_ participated in.

Suddenly, Jack's eyes brightened with mischief, "How are you liking the weather, by the way?"

Skulker raised a metallic brow at the random question, firing another shot.

Jack Frost dodged, "I think it's a little warm, don't you?"

Before Skulker could respond, Jack used his powers and made the area drop in at least ten degrees and the clouds became an angry grey before it began to hail.

Danny, from below, had wide eyes from the sheer power and size of the storm even if it only surrounded that one building.

For the most part, Skulker just phased through the clumps of ice that were the size of tennis balls. But what Skulker _couldn't_ phase through, was the wintery chill and roaring winds.

Soon, Jack Frost found that he didn't need Danny to distract Skulker.

Now, the robot distracted enough for Jack Frost to take the shot. (Who knew that lipstick could make one feel so empowering.)

Meanwhile Danny, in the midst of propelling down, bit his lip and thought about enacting his actual plan. Number 3, that is.

While he _could_ duplicate himself, and have 'Phantom' come into the picture, it was still very draining, as far as ghostly energy went. With not a whole lot of other options, however, he closed his eyes and concentrated, forming an invisible duplicate just behind him.

Jack was having fun with the weather and was distracted enough, Danny noted. He sent the duplicate inside the building to wait.

His head suddenly felt like there was a swarm of angry wasps and the exhaustion clamped onto Danny's muscles, already they were starting to ache. He couldn't maintain this for very long.

If everything went well, he would fall, the duplicate of his ghost half would catch him, he'd let the duplicate fight Skulker, and then (once Skulker was in a thermos) the duplicate would dissipate into the air. Danny just hoped he had enough stamina to pull this one off and his whole 'cross-country trip' thing didn't leave him _completely_ drained.

He waited for a reasonably powerful gust of wind before allowing his grip to loose on the cable. Danny gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, as if bracing for impact.

Two years of constantly having to lie very much helped his skill as an actor, though he had to be somewhat prepared to be convincing. Plus, this wasn't the first time he fell to his 'impending doom'.

So, with this in mind, Danny fell.

 _. . ._

Jack Frost turned around when he heard a sharp gasp, eyes widening when he saw Danny most definitely _not_ holding onto the cable. The spirit realized, in an instant, that Danny had likely slipped off because of the wind and hail.

Jack Frost leapt into action, making a beeline for Danny as well as stopping the storm. The Guardian wasn't even halfway to the falling boy when a black and white blur zoomed into the picture and swooped Danny out of danger swiftly, setting the human on his feet.

"What in the…" Jack Frost murmured, trying to get a closer look at what it was that just saved Danny from what would have been a fatal fall (not that Jack wouldn't have gotten there in time, because he would have, of course… yeah, definitely).

Jack got the idea, from the dark figure's overall shape, that it was another teenager, about the same size as Danny… actually _the_ size and shape of Danny. To a T.

But this… thing, boy? Whatever, was wearing some kind of dark and form-fitting suit. And they had disheveled greying-white hair, at least from the back.

The boy in the dark suit turned around, dropped Danny next to Jack and flew off, fighting Skulker.

Jack Frost couldn't help but stare in complete shock because the ghost looked _exactly like Danny_. They had the same facial features, the same bone structure. The only difference was coloring and clothes. Other than that, they could've been twins. Or even with the way the grey haired one moved, the same person.

Jack Frost wondered if the reason why Danny was so relaxed and casual with the idea of ghosts was because he had a relative that was one. The 'relative' that was fighting, and winning, against Skulker.

Jack Frost turned to Danny. "Do you have a dead, long lost, twin by any chance?"

Danny turned to face Jack, startled, "I- um… no? I don't?" His voice had a tired slur to it. Impossibly more so than when he arrived at the lake. Danny cleared his throat, "I don't."

Jack Frost paused and stared at Danny. "Sounds fake, but ok."

Danny face twisted to a offended look, but didn't seem to be able to deny Jack's doubt. That, or Danny was too tired to care.

Jack Frost turned his face back to the fight when he heard a noise equivalent of a suction cup.

Jack raised both brows and blinked when Skulker was somehow sucked into the thermos. "So _that's_ what it does." Jack Frost mused. He then made a face. "Hold on- wait- why didn't we just use that in the _first place_?!"

"Because the ghosts have to be weak enough in order to be caught be the thermos. Otherwise they won't be sucked in." Danny said blandly, nearly struggling to stay on his feet.

The ghost in the dark suit unceremoniously dropped the thermos in Danny's hands before he fizzed out of existence like a TV with no signal.

Jack eyed at the thermos in Danny's hand with a new respect. "Oh." Jack Frost then turned away and tried to absorb everything. "... this is the craziest day of my life. No question."

Danny slowly nodded in silent agreement.

Jack Frost then turned to Danny and saw that his legs were wobbly and suddenly noticed how _drained_ the other teen looked. Not that Jack could blame him, doing a road trip, walking for miles, and fighting for your own life can do that to a person.

Jack frowned, "Do you, um, need to sit down?" He was _really_ out of practice on how to deal with things like human exhaustion.

Danny shook his head, dragging a palm down his face. "Nah, if I do then I'll go right to sleep." He then gave a sluggish shrug. "Besides, I typically do more on a daily basis. My family hunts ghosts, so, there's that."

"Hunts… Ghosts…" Jack shook his head. "Yeah. Alright. Ya' know what? It doesn't surprise me at this point. Makes sense, actually."

Jack Frost stood there, once more processing everything. "That thing was after your skin." He repeated.

Danny glanced at Jack Frost, annoyed. "We've established this. And his name is Skulker."

"You're on a first name basis with the _metal robot_. That's after. _Your. Skin_."

Danny snorted, apparently amused, "He's not really a robot. He's like," Danny had five inches of space between his hands. "Yey' big. About the size of a frog, actually. It's really just a big metal suit."

Danny flopped his arms back to his sides. "Can't help but be impressed though, Skulker accomplished pretty much everything he's ever done out of spite."

Jack Frost stared blankly at Danny.

"I- hey! Don't give me that look!" Danny crossed his arms, scowling in indignation. "At this point, I don't even think that Skulker's after my skin anymore, I think he just likes the challenge and is too stubborn to leave me the hell alone."

"Are you _hearing yourself_?!" Jack Frost gave a tight frown, "You're way too casual about this."

Danny threw his hands up in the air, "Well, ya know what?! You're always free to go! _Nothing's_ stopping ya."

"I- What? _No_. Life-threatening situations are obviously casual Tuesdays for you. I'm sticking around here until you don't have to worry about this like a _normal_ person."

Danny actually _laughed_ much to Jack's shock. It was the kind of laugh that was dark, and dry. The crackles were jarring and Jack Frost himself had to wince at the weight the cold laugh held.

Danny then waved him off as he turned around, "Yeah, right. Whatever, I'm going to bed. Stick around for as long as you want. _Good luck_."

With that, Danny walked off, shoving his hands into his pockets and ignoring the small weight that settled in the pit of his stomach.


End file.
